A/N: thanks again for comments and for reading :). People who were beginning to worry that Rachel is mentally challenged will probably like this chapter.

Rachel sighed deeply to herself as she opened Jacob's locker. She had hoped to live her life without ever going near any of his personal items, but she needed proof that he wasn't her MySpace admirer so he'd stop following her around and asking her to comment on his pictures. It was almost predictably easy that his locker combination was her birthday. Staring at the pictures of herself taken from closets that plastered the inside though, she had rather more pressing matters on her mind. Or rather, a more pressing matter on her mind, the only thing that ever seemed to be on her mind - Quinn Fabray.

It was very easy not to like the girl when she insulted you constantly and threw slushies at you almost daily. It was rather more difficult when she suddenly began treating you like a friend, seemed to actually enjoy your company and even allowed you to tag along on reconnaissance missions with Santana and her. It was impossible not to like her, to like her a lot, when she gave you those smiles, and she wore those stupidly short Cheerios skirts - Rachel had to stop flipping through Jacob's folder of pictures of McKinley's female student's heads photoshopped on to porn star's bodies to consider those Cheerios skirts. And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that Quinn turned out to be funny and nice and fun to be around (even if she did have questionable taste in music), and if she wasn't terrified of ruining what was turning into a really good friendship, Rachel would probably be able to invite Quinn over to her house to bake cookies and watch movies and make out.

Wait. Rachel shook her head. No, not that last thing. Quinn was straight - she was pretty sure you couldn't get any straighter. Up until a few days ago she'd had a boyfriend after all, and while she didn't exactly seem devastated about losing him, she already liked another guy. And true, that guy was dating someone else and she didn't seem too upset about that either. And actually, hadn't Quinn been right by her locker just before she found that first bear her secret admirer left her? And she sang that song in Glee about wanting someone to like her, and Santana kept making weird hints about Quinn having some secret, not to mention she showed up at that auction the day after Rachel told her secret friend about it. Plus her MySpace admirer did seem to be very knowledgeable about Puck and Quinn's relationship - as well as knowing that Santana had been giving Brittany's cat vodka. Then there was the fact it had been Rachel who first suggested Quinn might like Sam, previous to that all Quinn had said was that she liked someone. And her online friend had actually admitted to being at the restaurant when they'd been spying on Brittany and Sam, and since she was pretty sure she could dismiss the two blondes (she wasn't sure they'd have the intelligence to carry out the plan between them) and the idea of it being Santana was just laughable, that really only left Quinn. How hadn't she noticed any of those things before? Perhaps Quinn wasn't quite so straight, and she was her MySpace admirer - it seemed to make absolutely perfect sense...

No, this was probably all just wishful thinking. It couldn't be Quinn - the phrase "too good to be true" existed for a reason, after all. This did present her with the problem, of course, of who her MySpace admirer actually was. And she liked them too, she really did - she could speak to them for hours about almost nothing at all, and they told her she was beautiful, and she was very aware that it was all very cliché, but she was Rachel Berry, and she liked clichés But she didn't know who they were, and if she was honest, she was beginning to lose hope that they'd ever tell her. There had to be a reason they'd chosen to keep it a secret to begin with, after all.

She turned the pages of a sketchbook featuring several drawings of herself as a mermaid. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Which would be a lot easier if she could just stop thinking about -

"Rachel? What are you doing?"

Quinn Fabray.

She span around, "Quinn! I'm...uh... just... getting books from my locker."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "This isn't your locker. And I wouldn't be entirely surprised to learn you keep pictures of yourself there, but I don't know why you'd have grainy black and white ones taken from twenty feet away." She poked one photo with a frown, "And some that are apparently taken from a tree outside your bedroom. Really, Rachel? You have a tree right outside your bedroom window that people are able to climb and see inside from? Do you live in a sitcom?"

Rachel was briefly distracted by a daydream involving Quinn climbing through her bedroom window, but managed to recover herself, "Okay, I admit, I'm trying to find proof that Jacob isn't my secret MySpace friend. However, if you're going to report me to the appropriate authorities I ask you to take into account the circumstances surrounding this act of unlawfulness, particularly that Jacob Ben Israel is awful."

Quinn shrugged, "I'm not opposed to a little breaking and entering if it's for a good cause." Rachel couldn't help wondering if climbing through a bedroom window counted as breaking and entering, and whether the exact activities Rachel had in mind after that were a good cause.

Luckily the other girl didn't seem to noticed her moment of distraction because she was lost in her own thoughts too. "Anyway," the blonde said finally, "I might not have to report you." she pointed to the back of Jacob's locker, "Because apparently he has his own surveillance going on."

Rachel looked at the camera. The little red light blinked at her. Jacob was really weird, but it had given her an idea.

xxx

"I really don't understand why this is such a difficult plan to carry out, Artie, you've already helped me spy on the Glee club before. If anything, spying on Jacob Ben Israel should be easier because it comes without the moral scruples of betraying your friend's trust."

Artie looked like he was wondering if he could wheel away fast enough to escape Rachel. Apparently deciding that it would be too tricky to negotiate the stairs, he replied, "It's not that, Rachel, it's just that somehow getting a camera small enough that Jacob wouldn't notice it and then attaching it to something is incredibly difficult. Probably impossible."

Rachel sighed, "I must find a way to prove he isn't my MySpace friend, yesterday he created eight different accounts and sent me nine friend requests from all of them. And the profile pictures of each were of him in various states of undress. Attaching a camera to his property and filming him to prove he is elsewhere at the time my MySpace friend is online is the only way to do so."

"I'm pretty sure there are about a thousand easier ways than that."

"I'll give you a hundred dollars."

"I'll see what I can do."

xxx

MySpace Fan: Okay I think we need a new rule, you have to wear that costume from Chicago every day.
Rachel: You liked it?
MySpace Fan: Well, I have eyes, so yes, I did.

xxx

"Rachel!"

Rachel looked around quickly for an easy escape route, finding none, she said, "Jacob, for the last time I won't sign your petition to support the school allowing nudity in it's performances, it's just not right."

Jacob looked like he was about to cry, "No it's not that, although if you ever change your mind I'd still like you to sign it. It's this." He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand, then held out a piece of paper. Rachel took it gingerly, silently grateful that she had hand sanitiser in her locker. Written in letters cut out from magazines, the paper said "I have stolen your bird. Admit you are lying about MySpace or the bird GETS IT." Attached was a picture of a parrot.

Rachel frowned, "Someone sent you a ransom note for your pet parrot? I didn't even know you had a pet parrot. And the only condition is that you admit you aren't my MySpace fan? This seems a little contrived."

Jacob nodded frantically, "Yes, so I'm here to tell you that I'm not your MySpace person. I wish I was but I'm not, now please tell whoever did this to give me my bird back." he sniffed again, "I even taught it to say "How do you respond to the rumours that Rachel Berry and yourself are engaged?""

Despite herself, Rachel couldn't help being a little flattered.

xxx

"Hey Rachel," Quinn said with a smile. "What are you up to? Insane schemes?"

Rachel laughed, in the middle of putting her books away after class, "Contrary to popular belief, Quinn, I'm not constantly engaged in secretive plots. Have you seen Artie anywhere?"

"You want to talk to Artie about something that isn't a secret plot? I don't believe you."

"I do have conversation topics other than madcap plans, Quinn."

"I know," Quinn grinned, "You have musicals and political activism. You want to eat lunch together?"

Rachel hesitated, but she really did have to tell Artie his assistance with Jacob was no longer required, "I'm afraid not, Quinn."

The cheerleader looked distracted suddenly though, "Oh, wait, I completely forgot - "

Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a flyer and handed it to Rachel.

"'Lima Karaoke Night'?" Rachel beamed, "Karaoke?"

Quinn smiled, "Yeah, I thought it might be something you'd be into. You want to go?"

"You mean...do I want to go with you? Together?"

"No, I thought you could go alone. You know, as a Glee club representative."

Rachel's face fell, "Oh. Well I suppose..."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "I'm kidding, Rachel. Yes I'm asking if you want to go together."

Quinn Fabray made it really hard not to like her.

xxx

Rachel: Thank you for calling off Jacob. I assume the parrot kidnapping was your doing.
MySpace Fan: Of course :) Don't worry, I wouldn't really have hurt it if he hadn't admitted it. I was going to give it to Brittany as a present.
Rachel: I thought she was a fan of ducks?
MySpace Fan: She is, but she'd have liked the parrot too. I was going to teach it to say "Rachel Berry is so awesome" to piss Santana off.
Rachel: I thought Brittany and Santana were still broken up?
MySpace Fan: They are, but they'll make up. They're like, fated to be together or something. Kind of like us...
Rachel: I should probably mention, I have a crush on someone else.
MySpace Fan: Uh...okay? How do you know it's someone else? You don't know who I am.
Rachel: I can be fairly certain you aren't this person.

xxx

"Rachel, mission accomplished."

Rachel looked up from the piano, "What?"

Artie smiled, "Mission accomplished. I planted the camera on Jacob's bag. Here," he handed her a piece of paper, "This explains how you can connect your computer to it and see what's going on."

Rachel's mouth opened and closed. She'd been so excited about karaoke she'd completely forgotten to tell Artie she didn't need to spy on Jacob any more.

"So, do I get my hundred dollars now?"

Promising to get the money to him later, Quinn approached as he left to sit next to Mercedes and Kurt as they waited for Glee club rehearsal to start, "What are you and Xavier talking about?"

Rachel looked confused, "Xavier? Isn't that something of a nerdy reference for you, Quinn?"

Quinn folded her arms, "Are you defending him?" she looked across the room at Artie, then back at Rachel, "Oh. I see. I didn't think he'd be your type."

"My type? What do you - "

She was interrupted by Brittany's loud exclamation. "Oh, wow, Sam, I love your hair. It's so...blonde!"

Santana glared at her from her seat next to Puck, "I can't wait to go home and have sex with you Puck." she said equally loudly, practically climbing into his lap.

Brittany didn't even bother to look away from Santana when she said, "Sam, you're so nice, you take me on really good dates, I had so much fun at the park with you yesterday."

Sam looked confused, "We didn't go to the - "

"Puck you're definitely the hottest person I've ever slept with. Ever."

Rachel glanced up at Quinn, who seemed to be trying to contain her laughter. "This seems rather immature. Are they still trying to make each other jealous?"

Quinn looked down at her, "I don't know, why don't you ask your crush." she said, her eyes widening comically, before storming away to sit next to Brittany, who was naming all of the rubber ducks Sam had supposedly bought for her, glaring at Santana kissing Puck (with her eyes open, she was glaring back at Brittany).

Rachel was confused.

xxx

Dear 4Chan,
I was recently engaged in an exchange with one of your users, during which they became aggressive and threatening. While I admit that the issue of the West End versus Broadway is a divisive one, I feel calling me a "Nazi faggot with shit for brains" along with a rather disturbing photographic image was entirely inappropriate as a response, nor did it address any of the compelling arguments I had made. I hope to see you -

Rachel sighed. This letter was pointless really, 4chan had never responded satisfactorily to her emails, although she did now have a rather comprehensive list of websites to never, ever visit. She looked around her room in boredom - if she didn't bother to finish her letter of complaint she had some time to kill before her rhetoric class. Her eyes fell on Artie's sheet of paper explaining how to access the camera he'd planted on Jacob.

She really had no reason to watch him any more.

But then again, it would be helpful to know how exactly he got into her house that one time.

She followed the instructions quickly, and before long a black and white picture appeared on the screen of what was presumably Jacob's living room. Although the camera appeared to be on the floor, the picture was surprisingly clear. Jewfro himself walked past the camera, carrying two dolls, one of which was wearing a sweater vest and had dark hair. He passed too quickly for Rachel to see what the other one was, but she supposed she probably didn't want to know.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, and she was about to close the program when Jacob appeared back on screen, opening his front door. Although there was no sound, she assumed the doorbell had rung because he began to talk to someone, althoughbut who it was was blocked from her view. A few seconds later though he threw his arms up happily as someone handed him a large bird cage.

Rachel raised an eyebrow, Jacob's pet parrot was being returned to him. That meant whoever was talking to him was her MySpace admirer. She gasped. They were right there.

Her nose practically touching the screen, she willed him to move so she could see who was there. She didn't have to wait long, because when he turned to put the cage down, her view was cleared. Standing on Jacob Ben Israel's doorstep, looking incredibly uncomfortable, was Quinn Fabray.